


The Force Awakens (done *RIGHT*)

by Spearforce1



Series: The Sequels Reimagined [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Badass Finn (Star Wars), Badass Phasma, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fix-It, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Rey Needs A Hug, Slow Burn Rey/Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spearforce1/pseuds/Spearforce1
Summary: Anyone else approach the Sequel trilogy with hope and excitement, only to leave it with bitter disappointment and disillusionment?I did.*However*, I don't think it's a wholely irredeemable as many of my fellow fans, and I've set out to prove it. So I'm rewriting the Sequels, scene by scene, making minor changes in some places and major changes in others in an attempt to give us the series capstone we all deserve.
Relationships: Finn/Phasma, Kaydel Ko Connix/Poe Dameron, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Sequels Reimagined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935202
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. The Attack on Jakku

Poe Dameron could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Lor San Tekka, famed explorer, advisor to the New Republic and Luke Skywalker’s new Jedi, and member of the Church of the Force, was telling him the impossible, but at the same time the entirely-too-possible. It explained a lot about the First Order, Poe couldn’t deny it; the peculiar deployments, the hit-and-run tactics, the intense secrecy, it all made sense. Both he had Leia knew that the First Order was preparing for a war, could feel it in their gut, but hadn’t been able to sway more than a handful of others on account of the very dodgy behavior their enemy had been displaying.

He quickly gave the data chip to BB-8, his longtime friend and droid counterpart, who quickly stashed it in one of its various compartments and then gave a little “thumbs up” using a small welding tool. Poe managed to crack a grin at his friend’s antics, but quickly sombered again as he turned back to Tekka.

“You know they’ll come for you. If the Resistance knew what you found, then they do too.”

The old man just nodded, not looking in the least bit disturbed by this. “I know. But I do not fear them, nor their dark master. In the end, the Dark Side always destroys itself. The Force forever seeks balance.”

Poe steeled his gaze and nodded his agreement, clapping the old adventurer on the shoulder before ducking outside. He needed to leave, to get this information to General Organa, and quickly. The Resistance was in real danger, much more real than even she realized, and he was the only person who knew.

Suddenly, BB-8 beeped out a frantic warning, and Poe looked off in the direction the droid was indicating. Already he could make out the spotlights stationed atop at least four First Order troop transports. That was at least eighty Stormtroopers headed his way, with many more undoubtedly close behind.

“You need to hide,” he told Tekka without turning around.

“You need to leave,” Tekka responded with calm certainty. Grabbing Poe’s shoulder he spun the other man around. “What I have given you must not fall into First Order hands. If it does, a great darkness will fall upon the galaxy the likes of which have not been seen in over two thousand years. They must not be allowed to awaken such ancient powers. You must go, now!”

Poe didn’t need any further encouragement. Hefting his blaster rifle into a ready position he began a quick jog back towards his ship. Around him the village had exploded into action as what few fighters and weapons they had all made ready to give the First Order a warm Jakku welcome.

_ They’re fighters, I’ll give them that, _ Poe thought grimly as he watched the villagers form a rough defensive perimeter. BB-8 chimed at him from further ahead, the little round droid clearly ready to be off. Still, Poe hesitated. These men and women didn’t have the odds of snow on Tatooine against the First Order, yet they were still willing to give their lives just to slow the Stormtroopers down enough for him to get away. It wasn’t right; he couldn’t ask for them to do this.

Poe ducked instinctively as the transports touched down and the white armored Stormtroopers poured out in a flood, lighting the night with their blaster fire. The Jakku villagers were overwhelmed in seconds, the Stormtroopers breaking through the defenses as though they were nonexistent. They stormed into the village proper, and the screams of the dead and dying could be heard across the desert.

BB-8 chimed another warning, but Poe wasn’t listening anymore. He bolted towards a nearby sand dune and threw himself against it, using it for cover as he took aim and opened fire on the invaders. His modified BlasTech EL-16HFE purred in his hands as he picked off troopers, doing his best to target any going after unarmed civilians. One, two, three, four, five were dropped before any of the bucketheads noticed where the shots were coming from and fired back.

Poe ducked back behind his dune as at least four troopers turned their blasters on him. Occasionally he’d try to peek back over to fire off a returning shot, but they were hurried and missed more often than not, the pinning fire from the troopers giving him little room to maneuver and less time to aim.  _ Poe, you’ve really done it this time, _ he thought as he shielded his eyes from an explosion of sand. After another few seconds of this, Poe had to admit to himself that he’d done all he could do here. As much as every part of him hated leaving the Jakku village to the mercy of the First Order, he couldn’t stay any longer.

“BB-8, time to go!”

The droid gave an affirmative beeb and rolled as quickly as it could towards the X-Wing, Poe only barely behind. Moving as fast as they could manage the pair strapped themselves into their respective positions and began the launch sequence. Flipping switches and punching buttons Poe wished he could prime the engines faster. Now he was wondering if he was going to make it out of this mess he’d gotten himself into.

BB-8 squealed, and Poe immediately could see why. A First Order megablaster was setting up and taking aim, his FWMB-10 pointed squarely at the X-Wing’s engines.

“Oh come on!” Poe exclaimed angrily, trying to deploy his undermounted BlasTech Ax-190-B to blow the mega away before he could do any real damage.

Too slow. The ship shook and warning lights came to life across the dashboard as the megablaster tore into the engines, disabling them within the first few rounds. He didn’t get any more than that off, as Poe returned fire with his own repeater, but the damage was done. Poe was stuck.

For a moment Poe sat in his cockpit, staring angrily at the engine malfunction readout. He wasn’t angry at the readout, obviously, but rather at himself. He should have put the mission first. He should have just left while he still had an opening. If he survived the next few minutes, the General was going to kill him herself for jeopardizing the mission.

“I’ll worry about that later,” he mumbled, hurriedly unstrapping himself from the cockpit and tossing his flight helmet to the side. Once again readying his blaster rifle, he vaulted over the side of his X-Wing and landed in a crouch. BB-8 was right behind him.

“Look little buddy, I need you to hightail it out of here. They can’t find you, alright? You get that information to the General, you got that?” The droid gave a worried beep and Poe patted its head affectionately. “Don’t worry, you’ll see me again.”

~~~  
  


The command shuttle of Kylo Ren gave a low, angry sounding growl as it touched down on the outskirts of the pacified village. The ramp opened with a hiss, and from the bowels of the ship stepped a tall, menacing figure. Cloaked in black robes sporadically augmented with dark armor, and wearing an elaborate helmet under his dark hood, he stood in stark contrast to the pristine white of the stormtroopers around him. Equally ominous was the lack of a blaster on his person; instead, a weapon of hallowed antiquity hung from his belt, a symbol of his power and rank. He surveyed the battlefield for a moment before moving forward to where Tekka was being held.

Behind him another Stormtrooper prowled, chrome armor glinting in the light of the half dozen fires that had sprung up during the fight. Commander Phasma, leader of Kylo Ren's personal battalion of Stormtroopers, stood imperiously as she too surveyed the battlefield, noting the damage done, taking a quick count of the handful of Stormtrooper bodies in the sand, and the remaining villagers gathered in a huddled mass. She caught the eye of the captain of the ground assault, Trooper FN-2187, and gave a brief but approving nod. The captain made no sign of reply, but merely watched his commander and the Knight of Ren impassively.

Kylo Ren towered over Tekka, the old man having been forced to his knees by the troopers holding him. Kylo tilted his head slightly to one side, staring silently for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Look how old you've become," the masked warrior said, the sentence more an impartial observation than an insult.

"Something far worse has happened to you," Tekka replied in the same tone. He stared at Kylo with an intensity belied by his casual voice, as though staring through the helmet at the man beneath.

Kylo didn't seem to notice or care, his gaze drifting across the village. "You know what I've come for-"

"I know where you come  _ from _ ," Tekka interrupted, causing Kylo's head to snap around to face him again, "before you called yourself  _ Kylo Ren _ ."

Kylo Ren continued to sound casual, but there was a strained note to his voice now, audible even with the distortion caused by his mask. "The ancient star charts. We know you found them." He looked away, back to the huddled villagers, and took a few casual steps, continuing his feigned air of nonchalant conversation. "And now you're going to give it to the First Order."

Tekka took on an almost smug air, his mouth forming a half smile as he spoke. "The First Order rose from the Dark Side. You did not."

Kylo Ren was now out of patience, and dropped all pretense as he stalked back to where Tekka knelt. "I'll  _ show you _ the Dark Side," he growled.

Now it was Tekka's turn to not care, his face still holding that unconcerned half smile. "You may try," he said with a slight nod of his head, "but you cannot deny the truth that is your family."

"Your so right." Kylo had adopted a dangerously calm tone, and then without warning he ignited his lightsaber, a cruel-looking blade of crimson red that crackled with barely-contained energy, giving it a wicked, jagged look. With one swift swing he slashed Tekka across the chest, killing him instantly.

There was a strangled cry and the sound of a blaster rifle being fired from the direction of the sand dunes. Instinctively Kylo spun and lashed out with the Dark Side, freezing the bolt in midair and the shooter in place. Stormtroopers hurried to seize the gunman, hitting him with the butt of a rifle to disorient him before disarming him and dragging him across the sand. They unceremoniously shoved him onto the ground before Kylo, who crouched down to look his newest prisoner in the eyes. For a long moment, no one spoke as the man tried to shake off the effects of the Stasis and rifle butt and Kylo studied him.

It wasn't too long before Poe found his tongue, though.

"So who talks first? Do you talk first or do I...?"

Kylo held his silence for a moment longer. "The old man gave it to you..." he said, almost wondrously.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? It's very difficult to understand you through all the apparatus-"

"Search him," Kylo cut Poe off, in no mood for banter. The Stormtroopers frisked Poe, but came up with nothing. Poe couldn't help but smile. "Bring him aboard," Kylo instructed, spinning on his heels and heading back to his command shuttle.

"My lord," Commander Phasma's crisp voice cut through the night, and Kylo paused and turned to regard her. "What about the villagers?"

Kylo turned slowly and examined the prisoners in question. The fear radiating off of them was palatable, but despite it he could see the resolve many of them still had in their eyes. They were scared, but they refused to give into their fear or the First Order. He could almost admire them, and for a moment considered letting them go. He certainly didn't need them as prisoners, and he seriously doubted they had any useful information between the lot of them.

Instead he turned away dismissively. "The villagers are of no interest to me. I leave them to your mercy, Commander."

Phasma didn't hesitate in turning to the captain of the initial assault and issuing her order. "Kill them all."

The captain didn't react immediately, staring at Phasma. "Sir...?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard her clearly. Kylo stopped again and turned to look at the captain, sensing a curious amount of hesitation coming from the captain. What was his designation? FN-2187, Kylo thought. He'd have to look up his service record later.

Phasma stared the captain down. "Don't make me repeat myself, captain," she warned, and after another second of hesitation the trooper saluted and turned to the waiting Stormtroopers.

"Fire."


	2. Of Scavengers and Traitors

The scavenger known as Rey worked her way through the cavernous wreck of the Imperial Star Destroyer, trained eyes peeled for anything even remotely of value. This wreck was an old one, and she was a long way from the first scavenger to comb through it for salvage, but the benefit to searching through something this large was that there was always more to be found. A week prior everything she'd managed to gather would have been worth at least three portions; with luck, they would still be worth about the same. It would buy her time to find a better place to salvage.

Pushing off the wall she began to repel down to the sands below, and from there made the trek back out to her waiting speeder. She took several minutes making sure that the haul was tightly secured--losing even a piece of it during the long drive back to Niima Outpost would prove disastrous, as the Blobfish would take any excuse to underpay scavengers--and then set out across the sands.

As she rode, she did her best to ignore the desolate landscape around her; the rotting, abandoned ships reminded her too much of her own sorry state of affairs. She told herself constantly that she wasn't like those ships, she wasn't rotting and abandoned, but with every new tally mark scratched onto her wall the words became a little more hollow. These days she said them more out of ritual than belief, but she didn't let that stop her. _Someday_ she’d have family again. They would come back for her. They had to.

She shook off those intrusive and unwelcomed thoughts as she glanced skyward. The sun was going down soon; it looked like she would have to go by Niima tomorrow. She was pretty sure she still had at least a quarter portion left at home, and if she didn’t it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to skip a meal. She wouldn’t starve overnight, and frankly she wouldn’t be missing much anyway. She corrected her course to take her back to the broken-down AT-AT she’d converted into a passable shelter and hit the accelerator.

She arrived back at her home just as the sun met the horizon and was glad she had the sense to come back here instead of pushing for the outpost. Unkar had undoubtedly already closed up shop, and staying in the outpost overnight just increased the chances that someone either very stupid or very desperate would try to pilfer her haul before Unkar opened up in the morning. His thugs may leave her alone, but sometimes other scavengers were less lenient. She poked through her largely empty containers and was pleased to find that she did have a quarter portion left. It would be enough for tonight, and maybe even breakfast if she was careful. 

Rey finished the meager meal without feeling the least bit satisfied, but she managed to resist the urge to eat the rest. Setting the last of her food for the time being away, she moved over to her tally wall and scratched another mark on it. The wall was... full. More full than she wanted to imagine, let alone count. Turning away from both the wall and the thoughts that it always incurred, she stepped outside and gazed up into the starry night.

FN-2187, or "Finn" when he was off-duty, sweat under his helmet. He had counted at least a dozen troopers in his squad, including himself, who had failed to pull the trigger after the order to execute the villagers had been given. Commander Phasma would have noticed if even one trooper had failed to fire their weapon--there was no way in hell she had missed so many. He would have to move _fast_ if he was going to keep heads from rolling.

As soon as the troop transports touched down in the docking bay of _The Finalizer_ , Finn rounded up the disobedient troopers, ordering them into a line apart from the rest of the unit. The last of them had only just fallen in when Phasma crossed the deck to Finn, having just arrived back herself.

“Captain,” she said cooly, gaze sweeping across the assembled soldiers.

“Commander,” Finn replied as he snapped to attention. “I detected a weapon malfunction in the blaster of both myself and these troopers here. I was just preparing to lead us all down to the armory to have them checked.”

Phasma stared silently at Finn for a long moment, then eyed each of the assembled troopers individually. Not one of them moved, and so she turned back to Finn. “Very well, captain. Carry on.”

Finn gave a nod and a respectful “sir,” then turned to the assembled troopers. “Alright, move out.” As one they turned and began moving out of the hanger, Phasma watching them the entire time.

As soon as they were on an abandoned stretch of corridor, Trooper TZ-1719 (Finn believed she went by Jannah during off-hours) turned to look at him. “Sir... thank you.”

“Stow it, trooper,” Finn snapped without looking over, “and listen carefully. I’ve already jammed my weapon, it’s important for you to all do it the _exact same way_ so it looks like a genuine defect in the model or we’re all dead.” He quickly walked them through the process, and they followed his instructions carefully.

“But what do we do after this?” Jannah asked. “What we were ordered to do... what _you_ ordered us to do,” she rephrased, a note of accusation in her voice, “it was wrong. And if that’s what it really means to be a Stormtrooper, they’re going to catch us eventually because we will never be able to follow those kinds of orders.” The other troopers nodded their agreement.

Finn thought on this in silence, then let the silence drag on as they passed another unit of troopers. Neither group acknowledged the other, and before long they were alone again. “If that’s what you think... then you need to start looking for a way to defect.”

Jannah thought on that. “We’d need a pilot. Someone we could trust.”

Finn was pretty sure he had a solution to that problem.

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance aboard.” Poe looked at the masked warrior known as Kylo Ren with as much defiance as he could muster while strapped to an interrogation table. “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” Poe managed to reply, and even those two words hurt. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been on the ship--likely not more than a few hours--but the First Order interrogators hadn’t wasted a second of it, the result being it felt more like days. Everything inch of his body throbbed with a dull pain, and his head was foggy from the various drugs they’d tried pumping into him. But he’d been trained to deal with that sort of thing, and done his General proud throughout the ordeal. She’d likely still kill him for getting himself _into_ the ordeal in the first place, but that was a problem for Future Poe.

“I’m impressed,” Kylo Ren said, and he sounded genuine in the sentiment. “No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the data.”

Poe managed a slight smile and leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow. “Might want to rethink your technique,” he said casually. He wasn’t scared of this would-be Vader, and he would be damned if he gave that impression.

Kylo Ren didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he extended a hand, and Poe felt... something. A cold pressure on his mind, pushing through the drug-induced fog and trying to pry deeper into his thoughts. He grunted at the sensation, then gasped as the pressure became a physical thing, forcing his head back onto the table. “Where is it?” Kylo Ren asked, and the pressure became icy knives in Poe’s brain, carving up thoughts and memories in it’s search.

Poe grit his teeth against the pain. “The Resistance... will not be intimidated... by you.”

Kylo Ren was unimpressed. “Where _is it?_ ” He demanded, and the pressure doubled, tearing away at layers of thoughts, feelings, even sanity as it pried apart Poe’s mind for the information he so desperately fought to keep buried deep.

This time, Poe had no smart remark. When he opened his mouth next, all he could do was scream.


End file.
